


Does That Count As A Flub?

by ratherastory



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-09-13
Updated: 2010-09-13
Packaged: 2017-10-20 05:50:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,718
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/209436
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ratherastory/pseuds/ratherastory
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>From the lovely and talented (and slightly twisted) 27_jaredjensen, at mad_server's comment-fic meme, Once More, With Colds. The prompt was: During filming (ANY episode), Jared has a really REALLY itchy nose and has to sneeze but it's stuck.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Does That Count As A Flub?

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: NONE OF IT IS REAL, OKAY? Never happened, never will, OMG.  
> Neurotic Author's Note #1: OMG FANDOM, WHAT HAVE YOU DONE TO ME? Okay, so I wrote RPF. *hides under the nearest piece of furniture* It's not even AU. IDEK. I have nothing. NOTHING. Yet another line that fandom has made me dance across entirely too gleefully. I can't believe myself.  
> Neurotic Author's Note #2: Uh, so, it's comment-fic. No re-read, no beta, nothing.

Filming on location is something Jensen always enjoys, in spite of the hassles. Sure, it lacks the comforts of home, inevitably means even longer hours and harder work because they've only got the location for a pre-determined amount of time, but it's also a great change of pace, and often enough it means they get to spend time outdoors instead of locked up in the studio.

They're filming the last scene today, the all-important scene which will mark the first time Sam and Dean will have been apart since Dean came back from hell, and he's both psyched and really not looking forward to it at the same time. These scenes always hit him hard, and ever since his little meltdown after Dean's revelation about what he did in hell, he's been a little leery of getting too far into character. Today, though, it's all about Jared. Sam does all the talking, and Dean just agrees with him. So it won't be too bad.

He finally catches up with Jared a few yards away from where the techs are setting up sound and lighting around the picnic table, and stops short. Jared's sprawled in a chair, long limbs akimbo as usual, but he looks, well, sick. Not to put too fine a point on it. Jensen thought he heard him sniffling a bit yesterday, but today he's definitely not looking good. He drags up another chair and plops down in it, clapping a hand on Jared's shoulder.

“Hey, you okay?”

Jared starts, then relaxes again. “Yeah, man. 'm fine.” He reaches into a tissue box at his feet and, in direct counterpoint to his words, blows his nose. Jensen raises an eyebrow.

“Fine, huh?”

Jared just shakes his head. “Allergies are kicking my ass, that's all. Spent the whole damn night sneezing.”

“Oh, man, that sucks,” Jensen can commiserate, if only in an abstract way. Jared's allergies are practically a running joke on set, especially the antihistamines that make him sweat through several clothing changes a day. Still, there's no denying they make him miserable.

Jared hums something that might be agreement, then his face goes slack, breath hitching. “Heh... _hptschuh_!” he barely has time to raise his arm in front of his face.

“Gesundheit.”

“Thanks,” Jared lets his head fall back with a soft groan. “Why'd we have to shoot this scene outside?”

“It's more picturesque.”

“I c-could ha-have... uh... _eshoo_! I could have passed on that.”

“One scene, man, and then we're done. Then we're heading back to the nice pristine studio. No more cedar trees, or grass, or anything else.”

“Thank God —heh- _esh_!” Jared's head snaps forward with the violence of the last sneeze.

“Damn, dude. You gonna live?”

“Maybe,” Jared doesn't bother pulling his head out of his hands.

There isn't much time to dwell on it after that. Jared sneezes his way through makeup, stuttering apologies the entire time and making the girls giggle, but by the time they're back on set it seems like the antihistamines have kicked in, and he doesn't even sound all that congested. All it's going to take is a few hours of filming, and they're home free. Except, of course, that things never go that smoothly in their world. It's like a toned-down version of Sam and Dean: things never go according to plan.

The first time around something goes wrong with the camera. So they wait while the techs fuss, and then Jensen screws up his line. It's ridiculous, too, because he has almost nothing to say. That's when Jared starts sniffling again, in between takes. He tries to be discreet about it, but his makeup has to be reapplied constantly after he's done with his tissues, and by then everyone on set has caught on. Phil makes them do another take, cursing at the lighting changes, and this time, Jensen thinks, they're going to get it.

“So, pit stop at Mount Doom?”

It goes well, the dialogue flowing, until Jared gets to his monologue. “From the minute I saw that blood, the only thought in my head... and I tell myself i-it's for the right r-reasons, my... my inten-intentions are good, and...” Jared pauses, although he's never paused there before in rehearsal. He's stuttering a bit, and Jensen suddenly realizes he's trying to hold off a sneeze. Jared's expression hasn't changed, it's still the emo, dark, broody Sam viewers know and love, but there's a breathy lilt to his voice, a slight flaring of the nostrils, and Jensen's pretty sure he won't make it through the whole speech. He keeps his face schooled, neutral, all Dean, just in case Jared does make it. He's pretty sure Phil's going to make them redo it, but you never know.

Jared keeps going doggedly. “It, it feels true, you know? B-ut I think... heh.. underneath...I.... uh.. just m-miss the feel-feeling... hih! Damn...” he can't do it, presses the back of his wrist to his nose. “S-sorry... uh...”

“Cut!”

Jared's up and away from the table almost as soon as Phil's called it. “ _Heishhoo_! Ugh. God. _Hepkshuh_!” he manages to fish a tissue out of his pocket and sneezes into it, hands cupped around his nose and mouth, shoulders shaking. “ _Hutschoo_! Hih... heh- _eshoo_! _Esh_! _Heishh_!”

Jensen considers a manly vault over the picnic table, then figures that if he hurts himself Phil will strangle him, so he goes around, puts a hand on Jared's back until the convulsive sneezing dies down, and Jared manages a gurgling blow into his tissue. Jensen helpfully pulls the packet out of Jared's pocket and hands him another.

“Need a towel?”

“Fugk you,” Jared manages, laughing a bit, and blows his nose again, but the congestion sounds like it's here to stay. It's going to be murder on the scene. His eyelashes flutter again, face going slack. “ _Hptschuh_! Hih... uh...” his face scrunches up in frustration and he scrubs at his nose. “Fugk. Lost it...”

“Hate it when that happens,” Jensen says sympathetically. “Think you can come back? Phil's kind of having an aneurysm about the lighting.”

Jared groans and nods. “Yeah. Sorry. By dose is so friggig tickly...” he scrubs at his nose again, face still screwed up, then he gives himself a little shake, like a dog. “Tell Phil I'b cobig. I just need to fide by spray add get by bakeup checked.”

“Spray, gotcha. That sounds like a great idea.”

The spray helps, but only with the congestion. Jared slides back into his seat at the picnic table, expression grim and determined, and they start again. Not-quite-funny banter about Mount Doom, and then the monologue. “Thing is, the... the p-problem's not the... huh... de-demon blood... _hekschuh_! God, I'm sorry.” Jared lets his head fall on his folded arms in despair.

“Cut!”

Jensen reaches out and pats the top of his head. “Hey, you made it further this time.” Jared just sneezes miserably against his arms and doesn't answer. “You need a break?”

“Doh. I just deed a bidute.”

“You want a tissue?” It's got to be too early for more nose spray.

“Please God.”

They try again. Phil bitches about redoing the lighting, and Jared manfully steps up his game, and they go through it again. Mount Doom, banter, and then it's all Sam. For a moment, Jensen thinks they might actually make it. “The problem's me. How far I'll go. I-it's something... th-that means...it... heh... it scares the hell out of me, Dean. I-in the last cou-couple of d-days hi'ih...” Jared's breath hitches too hard to hide, and Jensen lets his head drop.

“Cut!”

Jensen waits for the inevitable sneezing fit, then looks up in surprise when it doesn't come. Jared's hand is hovering in front of his face, his expression one of mingled anticipation and frustration. His breath is hitching, chest heaving with the strain. “Hih.. hi'ihiih!”

“Jay?”

Jared sniffs, twisting away on the bench. “S-stuck,” he manages, inhaling sharply a few times, the back of his wrist pressed to his nose. “Huh... iih! Sh-shit...”

Another agonizing minute passes, and it feels like the entire world is holding its breath. Well, the entire world aside from Jared. After another minute, Jensen can't take it anymore, and he jumps up from the table to head over to the crew. “Anyone got a flashlight?”

Of course someone has a flashlight. Armed with it, he heads back, slides onto the bench next to Jared. “Hey, look at me for a sec?” and without hesitating he flashes the beam directly into Jared's unfocused eyes.

The effect is instantaneous and galvanizing. Jared's face crumples as he doubles over, tissue clamped over his nose and mouth. “ _Hetchuh_! _Hepkshuh_! Heh- _eshoo_! Uh... hih... _ishoo_! Heh- _esh_!”

The fit goes on for a while, until Jensen starts to worry that Jared might not actually be breathing anymore. “Jay? You're freaking me out a little, here. Can you breathe?”

Finally Jared manages to stop sneezing long enough to draw in a shaking breath. He nods vaguely at Jensen's reiterated inquiries about his well-being, then sneezes again for good measure before going through the rest of the tissues in his pocket. “Oh by God,” he groans softly, sniffling into the last tissue, nose bright red, his eyes streaming. “I thoughd I was goigg to _die_...”

“I wasn't so sure myself for a while there.” Jensen reaches over and puts a hand between Jared's shoulder blades, rubbing his neck with his thumb. “Okay, come on. I'mma tell Phil we're taking a half-hour break, we'll head back to the trailer and I'll break out the ice packs for you.”

Jared groans again and lists dramatically to the side, burying his face in Jensen's shirt. “I love you. Barry be?”

“I want you sober when you propose, man. None of this stoned-on-antihistamines bullshit. Besides, I insist on a ring. Oof,” Jensen heaves him to his feet. “You gained, like, another thirty pounds of muscle over the break, didn't you?” Jared just sneezes again, and Jensen heaves a sigh. “Great. Now you got snot all over Dean's jacket. Wardrobe is going to kill me.”

“I'll buy theb gubby worbs to placate theb. It always worgks.”

“Uh-huh, sure. Just because _you_ like gummy worms...” Jensen rolls his eyes and heads toward the trailer. “C'mon, sneezy. Let's get you fixed up.”


End file.
